


the wound in the sky

by parnase



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, F/F, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9689087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parnase/pseuds/parnase
Summary: “Are you reading poetry again? Talk pretty to me, Cosette. It’s a nice lullaby.”Cosette nudges her. “You can’t fall asleep here. If you sleep, I’ll sleep, and then our dirty secret will be exposed when my father sees us in the morning.”Éponine manages a small smile even though all of her is shaking apart. “Is that what I am to you? A dirty secret?”In which Éponine is Cosette's nightly visitor, and together they make a safe place that Éponine needs more than she lets on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly loved writing this, I think the world needs more femslash in general, let alone Éponine/Cosette. I hope you all enjoy!!

Éponine stumbles as she lands, the shock of it sending a jolting pain up her legs.

Cosette is there to catch her when she stumbles (she always catches her when she stumbles) with her arms around Éponine's shoulders.

“Jesus, ‘Ponine, you need to be more careful,” she fusses, still holding onto her shoulder as she walks them to the bench in her backyard.

Éponine manages to muster a smile. Usually it isn’t too hard in Cosette’s presence - she could coax a smile from someone on death row with a sweet remark - but there’s the ghost of her mother’s knuckles on her ribs, and she’s still breathless from when the blow landed on her stomach. So her smile comes a little forced, and she hopes it’s dark enough to go unnoticed.

“Are you throwing Jesus’ name around again? What would the nuns say?”

Cosette takes Éponine’s chin with a delicate hand, turning it towards her so she can scan it for any signs of damage. “They learned to mind their own business,” she murmurs.

“A lesson you would have done well to learn yourself.” Éponine’s voice is too soft; Cosette’s breath is brushing her face and her eyes are shining with determination, breaking the darkness, breaking Éponine.

She pulls away gently, so as to keep a semblance of composure.

“Wouldn’t have met you, then, would I? What happened?”

“You know, I can go a day without something happeni-”

“Éponine,” Cosette interrupts. “Please don’t lie to me.”

It brings a twist to Éponine’s mouth that isn’t cheerful; Cosette demands all of Éponine, demands the truth and the dark and the ugly. She already has it all.

Éponine looks up at the night sky. There’s a break in the clouds, like a black, jagged scar. If the city wasn’t lit up, she can imagine what the stars would look like. If Cosette broke Éponine open, she can imagine what the wound would look like.

“Azelma dropped a plate.”

It was enough of an explanation to merit Cosette nodding with understanding. She had learned, probably when she was still living under their care, that Éponine would take blows intended for her siblings (but never for Cosette. A selfish part of her welcomed the reprieve in beatings when Cosette took them. The guilt eats away at her with each soft touch the girl gives her).

What Cosette didn’t know until later is that ever since she was taken away - since she was sold, since her father came into her life - the beatings increased in frequency and force.

Cosette brushes a strand of hair from Éponine’s face. “What else?”

Éponine doesn’t maintain eye contact. “She - She got hit. Before I could… interrupt. Just once, but-” She inhales sharply, and the arm around her shoulder tightens. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cosette nods and doesn’t push for more, but Éponine  is still wary of her words. They always pull her apart.

Éponine takes a small breath of courage before leaning her head on Cosette’s shoulder. This brand of intimacy is familiar in the way that running from the cops is familiar for a criminal. It’s still scary, though it’s practiced.

Cosette smiles when Éponine looks up at her, a small and gentle thing to soothe the wildness in her. “Just stay here with me. Until you’re okay.”

Éponine glances at her father’s window. It’s unlit, likely to stay that way until after she leaves. She would feel guilty about stealing Cosette’s nights from her but she’s a thief by nature and it’s not so easily changed.

“It reminded me of you,” Éponine whispers when the guilt possesses her again.

Cosette closes her eyes and leans her head against Éponine’s. “What?”

Éponine’s hands twist together in her lap. “When she hit Azelma, I was frozen for a second. And it reminded me of you. Of how… How she would hit you, and how I would let it happen.”

Cosette exhales, but she keeps her eyes closed, and Éponine is grateful because her eyes could be knives and she’s already cut up as it is.

“You were a child.”

“So were you,” Éponine counters. She wonders if she still has the right to be so close to Cosette after reminding her of the pain she allowed to happen.

Cosette is silent for a moment. “I carried a lot of anger with me after I left. Anger at the people who were meant to take care of me, anger at the mother I thought abandoned me.” Her head lifts, and Éponine knows it’s turned to her but she can’t bring herself to look away from her hands. “And yeah, I was angry at you. You and Azelma, you had what I thought was a mother’s love. And you would watch me but never see me.”

Éponine closes her eyes. She’s overcome with it; this girl wrapped around her was worth ten of herself, was worth more than the street trash that graced her bench in the night.

Cosette touches her cheek with a careful fingertip. “Éponine, we were children. And it’s because of our past that I am so proud of you today. I only ever wanted to be your friend. Now that I am, I can’t see the girl you used to be because you eclipse her.”

Éponine keeps her eyes shut but a small, emotional laugh escapes. “Are you reading poetry again? Talk pretty to me, Cosette. It’s a nice lullaby.”

Cosette nudges her. “You can’t fall asleep here. If you sleep, I’ll sleep, and then our dirty secret will be exposed when my father sees us in the morning.”

Éponine manages a small smile even though all of her is shaking apart. “Is that what I am to you? A dirty secret?”

Cosette laughs, and it’s the sound of windchimes and the sound of lightly strummed guitars. Éponine  wants to lean into it. She’s pressed against Cosette but she wants to be _closer_. “You can be whatever you want, as long as you never leave me.” She rests her head against Éponine’s again. “My father told me I’m a lonely child.”

“You’re not a child.”

“But I am lonely. When you’re not here, I’m lonely. So you see, Éponine, I need you. You can’t leave me, okay?”

Éponine hums a noise of agreement. She can feel the conversation drawing to a close, and though their silences are natural Éponine wants to hear her voice until the sun rises. She searches for something to say. “I know this boy,” she starts, unsure of where she’s going.

Cosette’s shoulders tense for a moment. “What kind of boy? A romantic prospect?”

Éponine shrugs. “Probably not. I mean, there was a time I thought… But no, he is hung up over someone else.”

“Ridiculous,” she murmurs. “Who could hold a candle to you?”

“You.”

Cosette shifts on the bench. “What?”

Éponine grins, but leaves her heart out of it. “He’s a friend. He escorted me here once out of misguided chivalry, and he got a glimpse of you. Hasn’t been the same since.”

Cosette makes a vague noise, one that always tells of fading interest.

“He’s a law student -  or used to be.”

She almost sits up - Éponine can feel her arm start to withdraw before she relaxes. “A law student? Really?”

Éponine nods slightly, brushing her cheek across her dress. “I think he dropped out though, so there’s no gold for digging.” The joke falls flat.

Cosette’s fingers start tracing a pattern on Éponine ’s arm and she shivers. “Ép, are you hung up on this guy?”

Éponine’s mouth is dry. She can’t think of Marius when Cosette’s hair smells of watermelon and her soft silk dress is caressing her skin. “I don’t know,” she admits honestly. “But he likes you. If you’re lonely, I can introduce you. He’s certainly someone you can hang out with in the light of day Very proper and respectful.”

Cosette seems to almost muzzle her, moving her head until her lips are brushing Éponine’s ear. “I am not ashamed of you. I would be proud to show you to the world, if you wouldn’t be taken away from me.” She grins and lets her head rest. “And you look so pretty in the moonlight.”

“I do look more tired in the sunlight,” Éponine concedes. “But I would blame that on you dragging me away from my bed every night.”

Cosette clicks her tongue. “Excuses.”

Éponine holds the thought of Cosette shining with the sun in her mind; she’s seen it, though Cosette has never seen her. Éponine has hustled a few hustles in the neighborhood and stopping to watch Cosette talk with a neighbor or check the mail box makes it worthwhile.

They sit on the bench together and watch the wound in the sky grow until the brightest stars shine through.

* * *

There’s discontent hanging in the air, and Éponine knows better than to cross paths with her parents. It’s not because of _their_ anger, something she’s well-acquainted with. It’s because she’s not sure what she would do, how she would lash out.

She had found out about her two little brothers that morning, the two brothers she had never gotten to meet, sold to a rich old lady before Éponine had been told the lie of a miscarriage.

She’s seething in her room, watching over as Gavroche empties his pockets of the stolen goods he would never give to his parents. It was Éponine who had encouraged him to live off the streets; he would fare better than her. He’s quicker, smarter, and knows the streets as though he were a patron god of the city. And he wasn’t exposed to as much of the bullshit at home.

“I got you a pretty necklace, ‘Ponine,” he says, holding out the chain.

Éponine musters up a smile and takes it, looking down at the wolf pendant hanging from it. The chain was long enough to hid under her clothes - he was smart enough to choose it.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, grabbing him in a side-hug and ruffling his hair. “Thank you, Gav. Got anything else for me?”

He rifles through the trinkets. “Nah, just a few things for Zelm and Marius’ friend.”

“What friend?” Éponine asks in a hard voice.

He shrugs. “Just Courfeyrac. He’s nice to me. Treats me proper, with respect. He doesn’t look down on me like the usual college types.”

Éponine keeps her eyes trained on the back of his messy head. “Be careful. You don’t usually trust people this easy. It took you a year to warm up to Marius.”

“Nah, you’d like Courfeyrac. He makes people calm, he makes them happy to be around him. I like people like that.”

Éponine looks at the necklace in her hand before putting it on, settling it on her chest before tucking it under her clothes. She would show Cosette tomorrow night, finally something positive to share with her.

“By the way, Marius wants to talk to you. He seems nervous, lately. Is he doing drugs?”

Éponine shrugs. “Love does that to you, kiddo.” She doesn’t like the way the word curls in her mouth like a dirty word. But Marius himself proclaimed it five seconds after seeing Cosette.

Éponine isn’t a denier of love at first sight except that she is; she prefers the building of trust and understanding, prefers the little moments of intimacy that grow until you don’t know where it began but you know you’re drowning in it. Not that she has experience in love, of course.

Gavroche screws up his nose. “Gross.”

Éponine pats him on the head before leaving, sneaking out of their room, past her sleeping father, and out of the apartment. She heads down the hallway until she comes to Marius’ door and knocks sharply.

Marius opens it immediately. He looks maniacal, as though he had been pacing. He draws her in with a hand to the elbow that would have resulted in violence if he hadn’t been her friend.

“Éponine! I’m tormented, I’m tortured. Please tell me you told her about me,” he begs.

Éponine narrows her eyes at him. “Cosette?” she asks dumbly, just to toy with the desperation on his face.

“ _Yes_ , Cosette! God, even her name causes my heart to-”

“I mentioned you,” Éponine interrupts, not caring to hear more. Cosette was safety and peace and the ground beneath your feet before a jump. She doesn’t torment or torture. “She’s not interested.”

Marius’ face falls. “Really?”

She sighs, looking away from that tragic expression. “Look, I can talk to her again. She just - didn’t seem keen, but we weren’t on the topic very long. She was interested about your studies.”

Marius brushes a hand through his hair. “My studies? I don’t - I dropped out. Like an idiot.”

Éponine holds up a hand. “Don’t go back to studying law just to get a girl, Marius,” she says sharply. “You’re more than that.”

He nods, pacing again. “You’re right, you’re right. Oh, ‘Ponine, it’s so strange. She’s on my mind _constantly_ and she doesn’t even think of me in passing.”

“She doesn’t know you,” Éponine reminds him. “And you need a hobby, dude.” Desperate to change the subject, she blurts, “Who’s Courfeyrac?”

Marius freezes. “Oh. He’s my friend. I lived with him for a bit. Are you going to see Cosette tonight?”

Époninevshrugs. “No, I like to sleep sometimes.” She turns to leave and stops, her breath leaving her body in an instant.

Her mother is standing at the door, her face apoplectic. She’s looking between Éponine and Marius as though they had been plotting murder.

Marius doesn’t notice, too busy pacing and muttering a distracted farewell to Éponine. She walks out of the apartment slowly, her mother waiting for her to walk halfway down the hallway before grabbing her by the back of the neck and shoving her into their own apartment.

“What were you talking to him about?” she snarls.

Éponine stands her ground. She has a few inches on her mother and she uses them as often as she can.

Her mother slaps her, a crack across the cheek. “What were you telling him? You were talking about _Cosette_.” Her face is ugly, twisted and ragged in rage. “Do you know where she is?”

Éponine barely has time to shake her head before the blows start.

* * *

Cosette likes her garden. Her father allows her to rule over it as she does the house; she takes this responsibility as seriously as she does anything.

There’s the bench that holds her, Éponine, and their softest moments. The gate that they first shared their whispered words after years of separation. Éponine didn’t like to use it because it squeaked.

Cosette pulls a dead leaf from a rose bush, dropping it and watching it fall gently.

She strokes the petals, marvelling that something can be that soft. Éponine’s skin, on the inside of her wrist and under her jaw, is soft. Her fingertips are rough; she plays guitar, though she would never admit it. There’s many things she doesn’t need to admit to Cosette.

Her thoughts are still on those fingers touching the back of her hand when the gate squeaks.

Cosette’s first instinct is self-preservation, to run, because there are two men entering her garden from the alley behind it and her father isn’t home.

But she sees the girl between them and suddenly her instincts drive her forward, to take the arm the elegantly-dressed one is holding and grabbing her by the waist.

Éponine isn’t looking anywhere in particular; her eyes are wide, her usually dark skin paler than it’s ever been. She was right; she looks tired in the daylight.

“What happened?” she asks, not looking at either man.

One of them clears his throat, but the elegant one cuts in with a graceful, “What do you think?”

“Éponine?” Cosette says, placing a hand on her cheek. There’s a bruise there, dark and terrible. Éponine looks at her, but it’s nothing but the haunted eyes of prey. “Shit.”

Éponine narrows her eyes. “Did you just swear?” Her words are slightly slurred, and Cosette looks up at the man in confused anger. If she was slurring her words, she should be at a _hospital_.

“She took some painkillers,” he explains. “Doesn’t like hospitals, so I took her to a safe place.”

Cosette gives the other man a short glance and he flushes. “I-I’m Marius,” he stammers. “Her, um. Her neighbor.”  
Cosette doesn’t bother with a handshake, not when Éponine is leaning on her with all of her weight, not when she feels so fragile under Cosette’s hands despite being so strong. Her head seems to sag as though she’s fighting a losing battle with sleep.

“What’s your name?” she asks the elegant man.

He studies his nails. “Montparnasse,” he says casually.

“Well, Montparnasse, you can help me get her inside.”

Once Cosette draws her blankets up to Éponine’s chin, brushing the bruise around her eye with a trembling finger, she looks up at the men. Marius steps back at the steel in her expression.

“This is not okay,” she snaps. “We can’t let this happen again.”

Montparnasse leans against the wall, and this graceful indifference is making this anger struggle to show itself. She hasn’t felt this kind of rage since she lived with the Thénardiers. Her father taught her that happiness, kindness, and anger cannot coexist. She thinks it’s time to stop being so kind.

“Her old man has got me taking out a young girl by the name of Cosette,” he answers, his voice more serious than she had heard it so far. “What he doesn’t know is that he couldn’t afford me, and that Éponine trusted me with you months ago. I wouldn’t betray that trust. Honor among murderers and all.” His grin makes Cosette want to shiver, but she stands her ground, even as Marius pales and gapes. She knew it would happen, that the Thénardiers would find out about her, that they wouldn’t want to let her go again.

“If you’re so loyal to her, why do you let this happen?” she demands. Her hands are still shaking. She shoves them into the pockets of her gardening pants.

Montparnasse makes his way to the door, stopping just long enough to say, “Sometimes you need to let people save themselves,” before disappearing. She doesn’t hear the gate creak.

Marius is left with her, his blushing face looking rather painful. Cosette vaguely remembers Éponine telling her about his crush on her last night, but that night was so far away, so warm and peaceful, compared to this moment.

She doesn’t dare take her eyes of Éponine. She looks oddly vulnerable while she sleeps. Cosette had imagined the girl to be as hard in sleep as she was awake. Her fingers find Éponine’s.

Marius coughs awkwardly. “I, uh… I didn’t know. What her parents are like. They were always nice to me.”

Cosette ignores his explanation. “You’re a lawyer?”

He shuffles his feet. “I dropped out of law school,” he replies, his face going an even brighter red.

“Do you know any lawyers? Any good ones?”  
Marius pauses. “Sure. I know a few. They’re my friends, actually, and-” He cuts himself off and looks down at Éponine. “Why?”

Cosette looks up, meeting his eyes for the first time. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. “The only reason Éponine stays there is for her siblings. I want her to get custody of them. So I need a lawyer. A good one, of course.”

Marius’ eyes widen. He looks awe-struck, and it makes Cosette look back at Éponine uncomfortably. “Uh. Yeah. Just… Wow, you’re amazing.” He clears his throat after that, and Cosette doesn’t want to answer.

“You should go,” she says after a few moments of awkward silence. “My father will be home soon. He doesn’t like strangers in his house.” She picks up a pen from the bedside table and grabs his arm. She can’t be sure, but she thinks he stops breathing when she writes her number on his arm. “Call me when you get me a lawyer.”

Marius nods, though it’s more of a bow, and stumbles out of the room with a wide smile on his face. Cosette watches him go and suppresses a sigh.

Éponine stirs in her bed, wincing in her sleep, and Cosette lets her fingers fall out of her grasp. After she gets her a glass of water and sits in the chair beside her bed, holding a book up to her face without reading, she hears the front door open.

“Cosette?” her father calls out.

She closes the book and goes to her door. When her father stops in front of it, she smiles the kind of smile she uses when she tries to pacify him after doing something behind his back. “Papa, you can’t be angry,” she starts.

His brows draw together. “What did you do? Are you okay?”

She holds up a hand when he comes near. “I’m fine. I just - I have a friend, and…” She stands aside and pushes the door open, revealing Éponine in her bed.

Valjean looks back at her with wide eyes. “Who is that?”

She shrugs, trying to pull of an innocent smile. “My friend?” she tries.

He walks into the room quietly, studying Éponine silently, leaning forward to peer at her bruised face. “Cosette, you let this stranger into our home-” he whispers angrily.

“Papa, she’s not a stranger. She’s my friend, I wouldn’t lie to you about that,” she interrupts gently. “I grew up with her,” she adds, biting her lip and waiting for the reaction.

Valjean’s look of horror makes her squirm. “She’s that Thénardier girl? You led them here?” He doesn’t bother to keep his voice quiet, and Cosette can see Éponine stirring.

“She is worth so much more than that family,” she insists, her whisper going hoarse from emotion. “ _They_ did that to her, she-” Her throat closes up, and she blinks away tears. “She gets beaten in place of her siblings all the time, she protects them. There’s so much good in her. She’s so _dear_ to me, Papa, I can’t stand to see her hurt like this. We have to help her.”

There’s indecision on Valjean’s face, but it only takes a moment to clear and then her father is striding across the room to press her to his chest. He kisses the top of her head. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Whatever you say, Cosette. I will help her, for you.”

Cosette’s smile feels shaky from the effort of keeping her tears at bay. “Thanks, Papa,” she whispers.

He pulls away. “She’s waking up. I will leave you with her. Call me if you need me, I have to do something.” He leaves with a parting glance at Éponine, and Cosette rushes to her side.

“‘Ponine,” she whispers when her eyes open slightly. “‘Ponine, it’s me.”

Éponine sits up almost immediately as though startled. She looks disoriented, as though the drugs still held her in its groggy clutches. She grasps at the bed sheets and stares at Cosette as though she can’t see her. “Cosette?” she mumbles. “What- Am I in your _bed_?”

Cosette musters a smile, grabbing at her hand and holding it in her lap. “Yes. Your friends delivered you to me.” She knows her eyes are shining but she can’t let the tears spill over. She has to stay collected for Éponine now, like Éponine stays collected for her siblings. “You’re safe here. My father wants you here just as much as I do.” It’s a lie because Cosette doesn’t think she could be happier about Éponine being safe in her bed, away from those terrible people.

Éponine’s eye narrow. “I… I should go.”

“What? _No_.” Cosette grips her hand tighter. “You should rest. Apparently you took a lot of painkillers.” She wishes she could examine her friend’s body for the damage that would require painkillers, but Éponine looks trapped as it is, she can’t push for more.

“But Zelm, and Gav-” Éponine explains weakly.

“They will be fine,” Cosette assures her. “Stay here for a while.”

Her face is hard like stone, but then it crumbles and she pulls her hand away. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Cosette freezes. She doesn’t know how to show her that she would be honored to see Éponine in moments like these. She wants to show her that she’s strong, that she isn’t weak for having miserable excuses for parents, that she doesn’t have to hold herself up all the time and Cosette doesn’t expect her to.

Cosette leans forward. She knows exactly what she wants and it terrifies her. You can be brave all you want, but when your heart and happiness is on the line it can burst before you even get rejected, and Cosette can feel her heart bursting when she feels Éponine’s lips under hers.

She catches her exhale and presses forward, her lips resting, waiting.

Éponine draws back but her eyes are closed, squeezed shut as though she is about to get hit but Cosette’s hand finds her arm and soothes the expression with a gentle touch as she waits.

And then she surges forward, grabbing Cosette by the arms and keeping her in place as she kisses her withurgency. There’s no desperation as though it were a one-time thing and Éponine was devouring everything she would be deprived of later, but the gentle insistence makes Cosette’s breath stick in her throat.

Cosette is the one who pulls back, opening her eyes to see Éponine’s hesitant expression.

“Did you mean that?” Her voice is clear, it’s strong and while uncertain, not insecure. Cosette is watching Éponine stand for herself - figuratively speaking.

She tries for a smile but her heart has burst like some kind of agony that increases when she sees Éponine lick her lips.

“I know you don’t always trust words,” she manages to say after staring at Éponine for too long. “So that was me telling you that I’m here. And that I want all of you. I want to be the one you trust with your soft parts, Éponine.” She inhales, but the pause doesn’t clear her mind. “And if you don’t want - _that_ , I’ll still be here.”

Éponine is staring at her with those strong eyes of hers, and it takes Cosette a while to realize the strength isn’t from her armor but from _within_ her. There’s no mask of bravado and no fake smiles or fake anger to mask the hurt.

“Cosette,” Éponine whispers. “You better be fucking serious because if you’re not it would kill me.”

“I’m serious,” Cosette affirms, gripping her tighter. “I wouldn’t lie to you. The nuns would cane me.”

Éponine’s laugh comes out more like a sob, her shoulders curling inwards and her head bowed to Cosette’s chest, and Cosette holds her close. She doesn’t stop her tears from falling on her neck because Éponine’s tears are wetting her shirt and this is something they have to share.

* * *

Cosette wakes up with a little shake, and opens her eyes to see Éponine with an unreadable expression on her face. “What is it?” she asks, sitting up. She chases away the grogginess and reaches up to touch Éponine’s cheekbone.

Éponine shifts under the touch and grabs her wrist to pull it down, looking over Cosette’s shoulder. Cosette turns to see her father in the doorway, holding a young girl’s hand while the boy with him stands tall in front of him.

“Oh.”

“Ép?” the boy says, giving Cosette a wary look and making his way towards his sister. Éponine stands, leaving Cosette lying in the bed alone and feeling foolish, so Cosette does the same.

Azelma and Gavroche fly into Éponine’s arms the moment she opens them, and Cosette looks away as Éponine pets their heads and examines them for injuries.

Valjean nods out the door and Cosette follows him to the hallway, closing the door after her.

“You lied to me, Cosette,” he says, his brows pulled together. He doesn’t look angry, only betrayed.

Cosette raises her eyebrows. “Did I? No I didn’t.”

“You said she’s your friend.” He points at the door. “I walked in on a more-than-friendly situation.”

Cosette grins, and maybe it’s not as sweet as it could be but she can still feel where Éponine’s body had fit against hers and she’s happy. “Recent development. I can’t believe you got them, Papa!” She jumps into his arms and he catches her with a huff.

He pats her hair. “We have to sort out custody. I didn’t buy these kids of them, they just weren’t at home. I thought it best to get them out of harm’s way.”

“You’re wonderful,” Cosette mumbles into his shirt. “I’m sorting out a lawyer already.”

Valjean lets her go, but his fingers still curl around her forearms and he stares into her eyes. “Cosette, I’m very proud of you for how you’ve handled this situation.”

“I should have done it sooner,” she answers, chewing on her bottom lip.

“You did more than anyone else would have done. You became friends with this girl, you gave her a safe place to come to when she needed it.” He smiles at her, one of those large ones full of disbelief and awe. “You truly are God’s gift to everyone around you.”

Cosette smiles at him. “Careful, Papa, or you’ll make me prideful. It’s a deadly sin, you know.”

“I think you’re allowed one sin.”

“If I’m allowed one sin I would rather it be gluttony since I’m always hungry.”

Valjean gives her a small smile and pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll get us all snacks. I think that girl in there needs something to eat - she’s far too skinny.”

Cosette nods and lets him pass, then stares at the door. She isn’t sure if she should interrupt the family reunion but she opens the door anyway, in the middle of Éponine straightening her brother’s clothes while he braids Azelma’s hair.

When Éponine looks up at her, her face is struggling between hopeful and hesitant before it goes blank. Cosette smiles softly at her. “Papa is going to get us some food, if you’re all hungry.”

Gavroche nods vehemently, and Azelma glances at Éponine.

“We should really get out of your hair,” she says awkwardly.

Cosette folds her arms stubbornly. “No. You have nowhere to go and I swear, if you go back to the place I will drag you back myself. All of you.”

Gavroche and Azelma smile in relief, and Éponine relaxes. “I don’t want to impose, though.”

“After all of this, how can you think you’re imposing? To tell you the truth, I think my father likes having people to take care of. So let him take care of you.”

Éponine still looks like she wants to bolt for the window, but once Azelma jumps up and hugs Cosette with half-finished braids and whispers “ _Thank you_ ” in her ear, she settles back down on the bed.

Cosette is about to join her when her phone starts ringing from the bedside table. Gavroche hands it to her, staring at it as though it were a mythological artifact, and she waits until she’s outside her room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Cosette?” Marius breathes. “I... Hi, it’s good to hear your voice,” he blurts. “How’s Éponine?”

Cosette clutches the phone tighter. “She’s fine. Have you got a lawyer?”

There’s a bit of rustling around and music in the background, like a softly strummed guitar. “Yeah, I talked to my friend Courfeyrac, who talked to _his_ friend Enjolras - he’s really scary to be honest, he never blinks when he’s looking at me - and Enjolras will call on you tomorrow morning. I gave him your address, if that’s okay?”

Cosette lets out a breath in relief, smiling at the wall. “ _Thank you_ , Marius. This means a lot. Is Enjolras a good lawyer?”

Marius scoffs nervously. “He’s smart, intense, and very passionate. He could convince a tree it’s a dog just by arguing with it.” He pauses again. “Um, Cosette? I know Éponine mentioned me, and I was… That is to say, I wanted to ask you if- um, maybe you wanted to go on a date? Or just, you know, as friends, or like as not-friends-”

“Marius,” Cosette interrupts. She smiles at Éponine as she opens the door and peers out at her. “I think you are a very good friend to Éponine, and I appreciate your help. But I’m not interested in a date, I’m sorry. We can still have a coffee some time though.”

“As friends?” Marius’ voice breaks, and Cosette bites her lip because she hates making nice people sad.

“Yeah. As friends.”

There’s another pause, and the music drifts away as though he walking away from it. “Okay. That’s cool.” He still sounds strangled, as though he was holding back tears. “I think you’ll be a pretty great friend, Cosette.”

She smiles sadly, and Éponine inches closer in curiosity. “Thank you, Marius. Have a nice afternoon.”

After she hangs up, Éponine touches her elbow gently. “What was that about?”

Cosette grins, throwing her arms around her neck. “I got you a lawyer. Or rather, Marius did. So you get get custody.”

Éponine freezes under her arms, and Cosette pulls back, unsure if this is some kind of line she’s crossed or if Éponine is having a hard time processing.

It seems to be the latter, and Éponine melts into her arms, pressing her face into Cosette’s neck.

“You’re too good for me,” she mumbles into her skin.

Cosette presses a kiss to her temple. “Do you remember when I first saw you? I was in my garden, and you had been watching me for at least five minutes before I noticed you.”

Éponine mumbles a lost reply, her hands gripping Cosette’s waist.

“I asked who you were, and you told me. You didn’t play games with me, you didn’t lie. You thought I would hate you.”

She scoffs and pulls back. “You hugged me. I thought you were half mad.”

“Half mad for you,” Cosette retorts cheekily. Éponine presses a quick kiss to her cheek and leans back, looking overwhelmed.

Cosette strokes the back of her neck. “When you fell off the fence and told me you were falling for me, that’s when I fell in love with you.”

Éponine’s smile is pure and small. “That was a week later!” she exclaims. “You can’t fall in love with people that fast, Cosette.”

Cosette takes a kiss from her, short and sweet. “You can’t dictate to me what I feel, Ép.” She traces the bruise lightly, but Éponine still flinches. “I didn’t say it for you to say it back. I just wanted to be truthful.”

Éponine rolls her eyes and it’s one of the most beautiful things Cosette has seen. “Of course I love you. You didn’t give me much choice. You… You saved me.”

Cosette pulls her back into a hug, tighter than the last. “We’re going to work this out together. I’m just so glad you’re safe with me.”

Éponine breathes deeply and Cosette breathes with her. “I fell in love with you when you shoved me into that rosebush.”

Cosette slides her hands up her arms as though she could still feel the scars and rips in Éponine’s skin, but it’s smooth and healed. “You have issues.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments will get you everywhere in life <3 Happy Valentines Day! I mean for me it's a day earlier than most of the world but whatevah beggars can't be choosers.  
> Love you all, thanks for reading!!


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